


Stamen

by yeaka



Category: Bee Movie (2007)
Genre: F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:08:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29572989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Vanessa and Barry have a day off.
Relationships: Barry Benson/Vanessa Bloome
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Stamen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Bee Movie or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Work never ends, and it’s saying something for Barry to think that, because he comes from a long line of hive workers with seven-days-a-week, twenty-four-seven-hour jobs. Somehow, starting up his own private law firm’s proven even _more_ work, and then there’s all the extra things he does for Vanessa’ flower shop next door. He knows Vanessa works just as hard. When they both finally manage to get a day off, they disconnect all the phones in the house so she can’t be called in, and they keep all the windows closed so Barry’s associates can’t drop by. They spend the first half of it on the couch—or Vanessa on the couch, and Barry on her shoulder—just catching up on TV and sipping coffee out of a respective mug and thimble. It’s nice to just do _nothing._

But they’re too industrious for that, and around one, they both break down, deciding that they have to do _something_. Vanessa suggests a fanciful garden exhibit that’s setup nearby, and at first, Barry thinks that might be a little too much like her day-job and his usual case load. But then she pulls up the online brochure, and the elaborate photographs of colourful, exotic arrangements draw him in. Barry’s never actually pollinated a Bird-of-Paradise, and he certainly wouldn’t in front of his live-in-girlfriend, but a guy can look and dream.

After another twenty minutes of her dressing in proper ‘go-out’ things and him debating between striped sweaters, they venture into the busy streets. It’s a bright, though slightly nippy day, the sort of thing that would be wasted all on the couch. They warm up quickly walking and laughing, because their conversations always lead to laughter—they get along like anthers on filaments. They even manage to keep work out of those conversations: they both know just how rare and good it is to be free of that burden for a day. 

By the time they reach the outside entrance to the exhibit, lined in a high white-brick wall with expensive-looking wrought-iron gates, Barry’s warm right to his core. Vanessa’s smiling and beautiful, like she always is: a true goddess in the afternoon sun. They get into line behind a hunched figure in a heavy trench coat. A couple at the front is arguing with the ticket-collector about bringing in their children, who seem to have already pulled dandelions from out between the pavement and therefore—according to the guard baring entrance—are proven menaces who shouldn’t be allowed inside. Having now witnessed enough horrors at the hands of human children, Barry privately agrees. 

But he doesn’t want to disparage Vanessa’s species to her face, so instead passes the time with another comment: “Is it just me, or is it weird to pay to see _flowers_?”

Vanessa shrugs. She could point out that they both know there’s nothing on Earth more valuable, but instead she tells him, “You could always fly over the wall. No one would notice.”

“Vanessa!” He slaps a hand against his chest, puffing up with mock-offense, and not just because how dare she insinuate that he’d ever leave her high and dry. The whole point of being out is being out _with her_. “I’m a law abiding bee! And a lawyer, at that! I have my reputation to think of!”

“Not a lawyer today,” she notes, winking, and he can’t help grinning back, because he loves that secret rebel side of her. She has to know he’s still not going. He wouldn’t give up his place on her shoulder for anything in the world. 

Ahead of them, the couple with the unruly children seem to have made it through. Now the trench-coat wearer is up, and the gatekeeper interrupts Barry’s next retort by shouting, “Wait a minute! You’re BEES!”

Barry’s head whips over. Vanessa steps back and out of the way, gasping as the man rips away the coat and tosses it to the curb, revealing a swarm of buzzing black and yellow creatures. Barry does a double-take, shocked he didn’t pick up on the quiet hum of thousands of wings beforehand. The bees near the bottom are holding up a pair of brown trousers, but they give up when the midsection bees are exposed, and the pants crumple to the sidewalk.

“Ah-HAH!” the man squawks. “I knew it! Tryin’ ta’ get in for the price of one, aye? Well, not this time, _bees_! That’ll be...” He starts jabbing his finger towards the bees, counting numbers under his breath, which the bees make more difficult by flying in irregular patterns around one another.

“You can’t charge us anyway!” one of the bees protests. “We helped pollinate those flowers; we have a right to see them!” A chorus of agreement echoes around the swarm, but the human just squints and counts faster.

Vanessa sighs and says what Barry’s thinking: “Looks like somebody could use some legal council.”

His shoulders slump. Work really won’t die. He casts her a helpless glance, trying to convey with his downcast expression just how miserable this is: he really did want a full day with just her and her alone.

But Vanessa, wonderfully understanding, gorgeously supportive Vanessa, murmurs, “Go for it. I’ll wait.”

“I love you, tulip.”

“I love you too, honey.” 

He flutters up to peck her cheek, then dives into the swarm to start passing out tiny retainers.


End file.
